


Death could also mean the beginning

by whutnow



Category: Craig of the Creek (Cartoon)
Genre: But only a bit, F/F, Goths, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, POV Second Person, Tabitha POV, Tabitha-centric, Tarot, That’s probably not canon, The creek is situated in maryland, a sort of character study, cinnamon roll craig williams, ok so this isn’t even a tag yet, still relevant though, witches of the creek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:57:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whutnow/pseuds/whutnow
Summary: Courtney rambles on about how Jazz has always been an interest of hers and you dust off your old clarinet and play a simple tune you’ve heard countless times and even though you make several wrong notes, your dad’s satisfied.Tabitha lives recklessly and contemplates her options.





	Death could also mean the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Just for reference, Tabitha’s tarot reading on ‘The Curse’ was The Lovers, Three of Swords, and Death.

"The creek. Real creative, Tabitha."

"Oh, _come_ on, I haven't been here in forever. Would it hurt to be a kid once in a while?"

"What are we even gonna do, though? I mean, you _know_ I haven't been into exploring ever since the Moose Incident."

"God, is that what we're calling it now?"

"You got a better idea? A whole _hand_, Tabitha."

"Have you decided?"

"On what?”

"On college, Tabitha! You _still _haven't handed anything in, and believe me, you won’t be working anytime soon when all you do now is laze around all day just like that useless lump of fat that lives on our lawn-"

"Puffer doesn't _live_ on our lawn. He's only around for, like, I dunno, two hours or something and only on-"

"_Don't_ interrupt me, Tabitha. Honestly, where do you even get it from. I certainly was never like that when I was your age-"

"_Yeah right_, and I guess Gramps was just lying through his te-"

"The _point_ being, that its been _weeks_ and you still haven't-"

"I'll decide _later_, Dad-"

"And when is that-?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"I raised you better than this, and if you're not prepared to show an inkling of responsibility for your own dang life, then why don't you just-"

"I could get a job right now if I wanted to, it's not like I even_ need_ to go to college!"

_1 missed call(s) from courtneee_

_c: hey shouldnt you be done with dinner by now_

_c: i mean like im dont have a major in meal etiquette or anything but yea_

_T: wht doestht even mean ???  
_

_T: youre s o weird_

_c: you love me for it dont deny it you sassy potato_ _  
_

_T: sounds liek someones ina hellof a good mood_

_c: yaaa_

_c: my mom got me some truffles love tht junk_

_T: noo chocolate the forbiden fruit_

_c: :P_

_c: sounds like someones in a bad mood whats up?_

_T: what_

_T: ?_

_c: you k?_

_T:_

_c: if youre wondering, its been six texts and you still havent used a single emoticon in even one of them_

_c: i mean its no tht hard to notice_

_c: like thts what u always do_

_c: i dont pay tht much attention_

_c: anyone coulda noticed actuall_

_c: um yea_

_c: tabitha?_

_T: i got into a fight with my dad _

_c: oh, do you want me to call you?_

_T: i dont want to talk about it._

_T: were gonna see each othe r in a while anyways  
_

_c: actually im already on my way_

_T: its eight already wht_

_T: shoot i fell asleep D:_

_c: roll yourself out of bed then! i am so not making small talk with your dad tabitha!_

_T: FINE_

Despite what your report cards imply, you're not actually much of a thinker.

You clearly haven't thought this through but honestly, the decision was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing that you never expected to develop. You aren't exactly surprised when Courtney agrees ("Oh, all right," she had said, note of exasperation in her voice, eyes gazing gently at you and the back of your neck heats up as you smile back easily), but there's a nagging voice at the back of your mind reminding you that if the lying eventually becomes too much, and the suspicion reaches its height, she could still back off.

You stiffen every time 'Jazz Band' is mentioned and stare at Courtney like she'll cave in each time. Courtney hates lying. Is terrible in it, in fact. Because you know, she hates it.

(She doesn't cave in. Courtney rambles on about how Jazz has always been an interest of hers, flustered and tripping over her words and you dust off your old clarinet and play a basic tune that you've heard_ countless _times and even though you make several wrong notes, your dad's satisfied.)

(You are so glad that he doesn't know shit about music.)

You feel kind of bad about vandalizing a tree stump, but any regret you've managed to foster immediately goes away at how Courtney seems to actually be having _fun_ on this ridiculously impromptu trek.

Your gaze travels down onto the carving they made just moments ago ("And now, let us mark down our presence in history permanently!" You had said, cackling uncontrollably as you took out a pocketknife). Your face burns as the implications of how those words were arranged finally dawn over you ('CK + TW') and you almost groan aloud at the 'XOXO' positioned directly beneath in a way that is definitely not subtle. No wonder Courtney was mysteriously quiet while you did it. Add a few tiny hearts and it'll be _impossible_ to ignore.

"You could get in some serious trouble if he finds out."

You scoff, rolling your eyes for good measure, and shuffle your tarot cards moodily. It isn't exactly dim, but the markings at the back of the cards are still blurry and you can barely make out the edges of the lining, and that's only if you squint.

"It's not anything new, anyways, and besides, worst he can do is ground me," you mumble and a card slips against your forefinger so you stop shuffling and straighten out the deck.

You feel Courtney's disapproving stare on your forehead and it makes your insides lurch with guilt. You pick out your cards, laying down three of them.

"Tabitha-"

"I know, Courtney," you say, almost petulantly and you scrunch up your face at how much of a child you remind yourself of, "can we just, hang out for a bit more? Please?"

Your voice turns pleading at the end, much to your mortification, and you feel vulnerable as you ungracefully flip the cards around. The words below are a mess of black and white but you don't bother focusing on them as you stare at the image of three notable blades impaling a single heart and your hand involuntarily fists itself until your nails dig into your palm.

There's silence for a moment before there's a hand unraveling your own and you look up, breath catching in your throat at Courtney looking so _gentle_ in the candlelight, blurry features soft and kind and willing to understand. You look away immediately, face warm, as you opt to instead stare at fingers clasped together on a tree stump.

Your eventual meltdown was expected, of course. You just hoped to prolong it for a bit longer, so it looks a lot like the universe is mocking you right now. You can almost hear it laughing at you, taunting you for caring this much, for being such a _child._

You tear up your reading in frustration, all the emotions you've experienced throughout the whole damn week crashing into you like a flood and you curl into yourself irritably, tossing a snappish response to Courtney's bewildered exclamation and you turn away from the pieces of cardboard on the floor like it burned you.

Everything comes flooding out and you're not surprised, your eyes painfully scrunched together as you attempt to shake off the image of your doom, your worst nightmare stuck onto your retina and you might cry so you focus on Courtney, gladly replacing the cold fear crawling up your spine with the surprising amount of affection and love curling in your chest at seeing her like this, all flattered and for a moment, the world’s perfect.

It’s almost worrying, how attached you’ve become. You’re not oblivious, you know what a crush is, but whatever you’re feeling right now doesn’t even begin to compare with the relationships you’ve had in the past. And they’re still just friends, and you know it’s fragile. That one small push could surpass the boundaries of common friendship, may already have, and could potentially ruin the one thing you hold dear. 

It’s almost worrying, but it’s goddamn terrifying. 

Not now though, you think, watching Courtney’s cheeks go ablaze, and somewhere in the unwarranted torrent of emotions in your chest, hope blooms.

You feel soft. Softer and happier than you’ve ever been and you wish you could reach over and grab her hand at least.

The night doesn’t give you a break, and by the end of it all, adrenaline still pumps through your blood vessels and the both of your faces are red. 

You’re still smiling. Your face kind of hurts and Courtney has her lips curved softly upwards and a look on her face that keeps your stomach warm. You’re still holding her hand, but she hasn’t let go, so neither do you.

Later, you’ll remind yourself to not read too much into it. It’s been a hectic night. 

Now though, when Courtney bends down and pecks your cheek, you smile even wider, belly flopping hopelessly and squeeze your fingers momentarily before letting go, exchanging “see you later”s and waving her away with a grin on your face.

The Lovers, which currently blows across the ground in tiny, furious pieces back at the creek, flash through your eyes as you scale up the wall to reach your bedroom window.

“Are you crying?”

You fling yourself around immediately, about ready to growl away whoever dared to approach you because that sure doesn’t sound like Courtney. 

A kid stares back at your livid expression, unfazed by your fury, and your insides jolt in recognition because fuck, it’s _that _kid. 

You soften up immediately.

He’s wearing the same yellow top since the last time you’ve seen him, in the supermarket, and for a moment, you entertain the thought of that being the only thing he wears (you're honestly not any better, though, when you think about it). The stick with the fake jewel embedded on it is twisting nervously in his hands and he looks at you with genuine concern in his eyes and you swear, your heart melts a little.

“No I’m not,” you answer, the words coming out automatically.

The kid steers you with a confused but pessimistic look and shakes his head.

”You are!” He insists, pointing to your face with his free hand.

The situation suddenly registers and your face burns in embarrassment then, as you realise that yes, tears are definitely slipping down your cheeks, and yes, a kid just caught you in the middle of your pity party. 

The day just keeps getting better and better, you think, sighing inwardly and feeling like you’ve run a marathon all too soon.

“It’s nothing, kid, go home,” you mutter and you rub your eyes, voice cracking and you look away despondently as you reminisce why you’re here.

”But... you’re sad.”

This kid is the most precious thing in the world.

You let out a tiny ‘heh’ before asking, “where are your buddies, kiddo?”

He lightens up like a torch.

“Oh, they’re at my house, we left something behind so I had to sneak out and get it!”

He then raises his black hood (which you only just notice), covering his entire face with it until only his eyes are left unconcealed and strikes a pose.

”See? Ninja Mode!” He whispers, muffled and excited beneath the cloth.

You chortle and he slips his hood down, looking absolutely delighted at the prospect of cheering you up.

”Anyways,” he continues, sweeping his eyes around as if he’s looking for something, after you’ve laughed your part, “where’s your friend?”

Your smile drops like a stone, and what little warmth you gained from this momentous exchange vanishes like it was never there.

You lean on the wooden railing of the bridge, staring down into the murky water without seeing and your nails scratch on the rough surface until you wonder whether you’ll find splinters in your fingers later.

The kid must sense your dismay or something, because for a while, he doesn’t say anything and he kind of reminds you of Courtney now more than ever.

Thinking of Courtney hurts. You feel the inevitable prick in your eyes and you blink harshly, trying to convince yourself that you just imagined the hurt splashed across her face.

Why are you doing this again? Why aren’t you with her right now, instead of crying in the dark like some kind of character in a badly written slice-of-life romance? 

You think about your dad looking away from the television whenever stuff like that shows up, nose wrinkled in disgust as he mutters “oh, for the love of...” like you’re not right there feeling a little hollow. You think about your mom, and the scandalised look in her face when you admitted it in a rush, glassy eyes looking away in shame and trepidation as you cry and cry and cry. She’s gone after two years, and you grit your teeth and start wearing black instead of pink.

You’re thinking about the blades when the kid asks solemnly, “did you guys fight?” and you stare because holy crap, you did not expect that amount of seriousness from a six year old.

”Hey, it’ll be okay,” he continues to assure you, reaching out to pat your hand as he leans against the railing with you, “you guys care about each other a lot. No matter what happens, I know you’ll work it out.”

They stare at the water together for what seems like ages until you remember that the kid's technically out past his bedtime so you announce that you’re feeling a lot better and he smiles happily. You walk him home quietly by his side and he hugs you (you freeze in your tracks but he doesn't let go until you hug him back).

After he's already sneaked into his house, there’s something rectangular in your jeans pocket that’s poking at you and when you take it out, the Empress of Swords stares back and you feel warm.

You smile gratefully when Courtney grabs your hand again, accepting your apology with a roll of her eyes and so much understanding, you can hardly believe it.

She smirks then and says, “so, are you gonna run away the next time I kiss you as well?”

You roll your eyes, face burning and kiss her on the cheek for good measure, getting a pleased squeeze of your fingers as gratitude, and you think about luck and small fortunes.

The next time your dad asks about college, you simply say “no idea”.

**Author's Note:**

> You may or may not have noticed that i used the tarot cards to determine the outcomes of this oneshot.  
‘The Lovers’ apparently represents the change or end of a relationship which I played around with to detemine the transition of Tabitha and Courtney’s friendship to a romantic one.  
‘Three of Swords’ basically means that Tabitha is about to experience a lot of grief, which I took to imply her father’s inevitable discovery and disapproval of Tabitha’s new relationship and sexual orientation in general.  
‘Death’, I used, to mark the end of Tabitha’s previous life to give way to a new one, whether she goes to college or not her life will still change drastically.
> 
> I’m aware that this is all a very positive viewpoint of the tarot reading, which could easily be interpreted to symbolise disaster but I honestly just wanted to give her a happy ending with Courtney. Given how positive the show usually is, I hope this will occur in canon as well.
> 
> Lastly, the Tabitha in this fic is: a) lactose intolerant b) short sighted and usually wears contacts but occasionally forgets or loses them.


End file.
